


Breakages

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abaddon would love to be able to use Dean...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakages

**Author's Note:**

> stir_of_echoes and I were discussing *that* scene in 9x02 and she wanted fic, but she also wanted to write Dean's POV. I said I'd write one from Abaddon's... this is the result.

Josie Sands.

Why little old corn fed Josie Sands?

She could have taken anyone, it would've been a damn sight easier to cram herself down any one of the other three hundred million human's throats. Why exactly did she feel the need to have a two bit demon resurrect that specific body...

Abaddon slithers and creeps and forces herself back into familiar muscle and sinew then realises that she doesn't have to _fight_ her way anywhere.

Sweet little Josie isn't giving house space to the demon, she's been whisked away to where ever human souls go when they've bitten the big one.

She'll have to remember to point that out to smug Sammy Winchester. He might be a hardened goal orientated hunter, but the heart that beats beneath the veneer still _feels_ every kill. It will break him to know his little douse and burn sent Josie on her merry way.

Perhaps that's the reason. Maybe she'd known Josie wouldn't actually be in her body this time round.

Death and destruction goes far smoother without a weeping and wailing woman in the back of your mind, flinching every time she feels a child's neck snap. Not that the sound of Josie's plea's for death weren't fun.

She's always prided herself on picking the perfect vessel for the job and the fact that Josie was so close to the Father poking his nose where it didn't belong was just what she'd needed. 

Abaddon hadn't realised the redhead was on route to becoming a Woman of Letters when she'd snuck down her throat that first night. A little dumb luck and it's amazing what a demon can accomplish.

If it wasn't for that limp wristed galoot Henry Winchester, she'd have marched back into Hell with the sound of praise and applause ringing in her ears.

As Abaddon rises from the bath tub, fully in charge of a soul free vessel, she realises she has old scores to settle before she can take complete control of Hell.

~^~

Queen of Hell.

Well doesn't that just crumble the cookie...

How anyone managed to let The Salesman loose with all their toys is still beyond Abaddon. Hell needs a leader not an accountant. Someone who dots the i's and crosses the t's. 

The running of hell should have been handed to someone willing to dig elbows deep. Blood and viscera and the screams of the innocent. That's what makes a monarch.

Abaddon hopes the brother's don't just lay down and die, because quite frankly that will be no fun at all. She's ready to break this newly risen body in and she's been imagining breaking it against one of them since she rallied the troops.

As she rounds the corner, comes face to face with the older of the Winchesters, she can't help wondering what it would be like inside _his_ mind, his body. 

_That_ body.

Okay, so a Knight of Hell shouldn't really be staring at some flea bitten hunter and fantasising about wearing him like a glove, but Dean Winchester is a breed above.

He's been hacking and slashing his way through evil for so long, Abaddon imagines he could slice most monsters in two with his eyes closed.

To be in charge of that much power, that much precision...She'd be unstoppable.

Doesn't hurt that you could bounce a nickel off his ass. I mean really. She was a woman once. Before she fell, before she found her calling and was raised up by Lucifer himself. Elevated to the position she rightly deserved.

She isn't above imagining that body twisted into positions that would break a lesser man. 

The back and fourth isn't quite enough to sate the hunger, to settle her need for violence, but she's got to give it to him, he's good.

As she forces Dean to his knees, Abaddon thinks perhaps she should have a little fun before she snaps him in half, "So appreciate you boys coming when I call"

There's a faint spark cracking along the edges of her second hand nerves. 

The body's reaction is plain, but the feel of it through layers of black smoke is dulled and it takes her a moment to realise she _likes_ the way he feels against her skin, "I think that's what I like most about you Winchesters, so obedient," revulsion is warring with womanly pride as she cards her fingers through spiky hair and if she tugs a little harder than necessary, she chooses not to notice.

The human at her feet runs a few degrees hotter than most; years of living off adrenaline and fight or flight scenarios, "And suicidally stupid, I like that too," the defiance in his eyes only serves to make her want to ruin him, in every way she can imagine, and she's a Knight of Hell, her imagination is vivid and inventive.

Lucifer always said she was one of his more creative members of the guard. 

"We gonna fight or make out, 'cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here."

Brave little puppy. 

If she didn't _need_ this piss ant of a human she'd have him bent double and begging before he'd realised where exactly she intended to shove her tongue, but Abaddon knows that Dean won't 'deal' unless she makes it perfectly clear how much agony he'll be in if he refuses her polite requests to take Crowley off their hands.

She's torn between sinking her teeth into those full lips or scraping her nails across his pretty face. The demon, the part of her that's hell bent on claiming her rightful place, is disgusted at the small spark of humanity that recognises what a thrilling prospect laying Dean Winchester down and taking him would be.

Underneath Dean's 'Fuck them with nob's on' attitude, Abaddon can sense something else, the idea of having her ride him until his legs buckle is creating it's own battle behind the hunter's eyes.

As she slides her hand along the curve of his neck, forces his shirt open, she can hear his heart beating double time. She's absolutely certain it's not just fear amping up his pulse rate and the thought of Dean Winchester wanting her despite himself, despite what she is, makes her want to peel his skin from his bones and bathe in his still warm blood. Delicious.

"You're the perfect vessel Dean, you give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas," Josie's body, her body, trembles at the thought of violating Dean's mind, of using him to crush her enemies. No one would stand against such a finely tuned piece of flesh.

There's no way she wants Dean to realise that having him at her mercy is anything other than a power trip, no matter what she might say to get under his skin, so she covers her body's reaction with a well placed threat, "So go ahead and play hard to get, and I'll peel off this no demon's allowed tattoo and blow smoke up your ass."

As she digs her nails into Dean's chest, as she feels him twitch against her fingers, she realises that he would rather kill himself than admit to wanting a demon and thinks maybe she can use his defective view of woman to her advantage.

Dean's a strong man, a virile self assured man, when it comes to the opposite sex. She doesn't have to be in his head to see that. Having him on his knees making half assed quips is beyond thrilling. If he won't give her what she wants, if he won't hand over Crowley, then she _will_ peel that tattoo off, she'll cut it out of his skin with the edge of her finely manicured nail and invade every inch of him.

The first thing she'll do once she's snuck inside is find his baby brother, the one he's so willing to walk into hell for, and break every bone in his body. She'll make sure that Dean can feel the crunch as she walks up and down Sam until they're both begging for mercy.

"Once I'm on top I'll make you watch. Have you ever felt an infant's blood drip down your chin, or listened to a girl scream as you rip her guts out? Because you will. You and me lover, and we'll have a _grand_ old time."

Behind that granite wall, the one Dean uses to protect himself against all the horror he sees on a daily basis, underneath the anger in his eyes, Abaddon can see how affected he is and it makes heat pool in her belly. She's wet at the very thought of using his teeth to rip a child's throat out.

It would be one thing to sink onto him, to have him filling her as yet unused body, another entirely to use his rock hard body to sink into other's whilst they beg for release from the pain.

A blinding white light emanates from the building behind her before sending shock waves of power across the air, forcing her to relinquish her hold on the hunter at her feet.

As her own fight or flight instincts kick in, she finds her self disappointed at _not_ being able to take full control of Dean Winchester and having to flee.

The image of running her fingers through his memories will certainly keep her warm at night, will add an extra frisson of something to the next time she manages to get the drop on him and his dopey brother.

In the back of her mind she wonders whether he would enjoy the taste of death as much as she does.


End file.
